


Let the Right One In

by shions_heart



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, First Kiss, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5309354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an infection begins to turn the citizens of Japan into vampires, Makoto loses touch with Haru and fears what may have happened to him. But one rainy night Haru returns . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Right One In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pocoloki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocoloki/gifts).



> A prelude of sorts to [this drabble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4989487/chapters/11461789)

A light rain patters gently against the windows. Outside the sky is dark, heavy black rainclouds covering the moon and stars, casting long, heavy shadows across the neighborhood. Inside Tachibana Makoto’s apartment, however, it’s warm and dry. He’s buried beneath two blankets, face smashed into his pillow. He’s not sure what wakes him, two minutes past midnight, but suddenly he’s sitting up, his heart racing in his chest.

It’s not that he heard anything unusual, and there hasn’t been an abrupt change in the weather or a sudden light across his window. Everything is dark and quiet, just as it was when Makoto went to sleep a couple hours earlier. But still, his chest feels tight, anxiety coiling in the pit of his stomach. Not knowing how to ease it, but feeling the need to check on things, he pushes back his covers and stands. Grabbing his dressing robe, he pulls it on over his pajamas, cinching the cord tight around his waist. He slides into his slippers, and then begins to check the apartment for signs of disturbance.

Everything seems to be in order. No dishes have mysteriously fallen in the cabinets. No faucet is dripping, and his cat Michi is fast asleep on the couch. Confused but still sleepy, Makoto turns back toward his bedroom. However, a quick glance out the front window causes him to pause, and his eyes widen.

His lips part, forming a name so familiar yet strangely foreign now, because he hasn’t seen the name-holder in what feels like years, though it’s only been six months.

“H-Haru?”

There, standing outside the apartment building, staring up at Makoto’s window with features still and expressionless, is indeed Nanase Haruka. He’s soaked with rainwater, his dark hair plastered to the sides of his pale face. He’s wearing a blue hoodie and jeans. No socks. No shoes. No umbrella.

The first thought on Makoto’s mind isn’t a valid question such as _where have you been all this time?_ or _why haven’t you called me in six months?_

The first thought that comes to Makoto, staring down at his best friend standing outside his apartment in the rain is: _he should be wearing shoes. He’s going to catch a cold!_

Snatching the umbrella by the door, Makoto hurries outside. He runs down the steps of his building, being careful not to slip, and sprints toward Haru once his feet hit the pavement of the parking lot.

“Haru-chan!” he cries, throwing his arms around Haru as soon as he reaches him. “What are you doing? Are you okay? You’re going to catch a cold!” He lifts the umbrella over the both of them, pulling away to look into Haru’s face, which is devoid of emotion. There’s barely a flicker of recognition in his eyes, and this strikes Makoto as strange, because usually he can read Haru’s nuances like a book. But standing before him, no shivers of a chill shaking his body, Haru is a blank slate, and Makoto feels that anxiety from before crawl back into his stomach with a sickening twist.

"Come on, let's go inside."

Makoto wraps his free arm around Haru's shoulders, gently guiding him toward the stairs. Haru allows himself to be pulled, still not making a sound. Makoto stifles his worry as best he can. Shuffling into the apartment, he kicks off his shoes and sets the umbrella down. Haru looks around slowly.

"When I hadn't heard from you, I thought you'd left with your parents when the city started evacuating," Makoto admits, trying to find a heavy enough blanket in his linen closet. He pulls one off the top shelf, turning to look at Haru, who's now by the couch. He watches as Haru reaches out hesitantly toward Michi, but when she catches a whiff of him, she hisses and runs away. This is strange, since Haru has always been friendly with Michi, but Makoto brushes off the uneasiness in his stomach, stepping back over to wrap the blanket around Haru's shoulders.

"Let's sit down," Makoto prompts then, hating the deafening silence. While it's true that Haru is a reserved individual, he isn't usually _this_ quiet around Makoto of all people.

Makoto sits, pulling Haru down beside him. "Can you tell me where you've been?" he asks hesitantly. "Or . . . anything about what you've been doing? When you wouldn't respond to my calls or texts I-I grew worried. You heard about the vampires, right? And the evacuation . . ."

Haru looks back at him, and Makoto notices how pale he is, the dark circles beneath his eyes. Reaching out hesitantly, he brushes a finger across Haru's cheekbone, watching as Haru's eyes flutter closed a moment, and he inhales deeply. He murmurs something then, but Makoto doesn't catch it. Biting his lip, he leans forward, placing his face closer to Haru's. 

"What was that, Haru?"

Haru opens his eyes, and the blue in them looks darker somehow, almost black. "Thirsty," he says.

"Oh! Sorry! I'll get you some water," Makoto says, moving to stand abruptly. What kind of host was he if he wasn't offering his friend something to drink? He shakes his head at himself, turning toward the kitchen, but Haru's hand on his wrist stops him. Makoto pauses, looking back down at Haru, as the young man slowly runs his thumb over Makoto's wrist.

Makoto feels that uneasiness creeping into his stomach again, a twist of dread, and he's almost not surprised when Haru opens his mouth to reveal two sharp fangs glistening with venom where his canine teeth should've been. Before Makoto can say anything, Haru's lips are on his wrist, sucking gently.

Makoto freezes in place, staring wide-eyed down at Haru. He doesn't feel any sharp pressure or sting of a bite, but Haru's lips and tongue are bathing the veins of his wrist. Makoto feels his heart pounding faster, his chest squeezing around his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He isn't sure if he should pull away or not. He knows if he doesn't Haru will probably begin to drink his blood, but at the same time Makoto isn't sure if that's necessarily a bad thing. If Haru is thirsty, shouldn't he allow Haru to drink from him? He's starting to feel light-headed, even without any blood-loss, but then Haru pulls away, letting go of his wrist and leaning back against the couch.

"Sorry," he says softly, biting his lip and turning his face away. His hair obscures his eyes from Makoto, but Makoto leans forward, reaching out hesitantly to pull his hair away. Haru lets him, but he doesn't turn his gaze back.

"Haru, do you need to drink blood? Are-are you a vampire?" Makoto asks gently, ignoring the way his heart is pounding in his ears. It's Haru, so he doesn't feel afraid. He isn't afraid. That's what he keeps telling himself, over and over, as he moves to sit beside Haru on the couch.

Haru turns away again, curling inward, pulling his knees to his chest. His back is to Makoto now, and Makoto knows that he's shutting down, has witnessed this happen before. Slowly, he reaches out to rest his hand against Haru's back between his shoulder blades. It suddenly occurs to him that Haru isn't warming up. He still feels as cold as before, and Makoto realizes he should've come to his conclusion much sooner.

"Hey," Makoto says gently, rubbing Haru's back in slow, soothing circles. "Hey, it's okay if you are. A-a lot of people turned during the attack. I just . . . I hoped that you had gotten away. But I'm not going to throw you out. You can stay here, if you need to. You always have a place here, I promise."

Haru doesn't turn back around, but Makoto can feel his body starting to relax beneath his hand, his muscles loosening. "I need to drink," he says softly then, and Makoto winces.

"Um, I don't have blood lying around," Makoto admits weakly, though he knows what Haru is implying.

Haru sits up and turns to face him, fixing Makoto with a small frown. "I need to drink your blood," he says, reaching to grab Makoto's hand wrist once more.

Makoto swallows hard, twisting his arm gently to try and extract himself. He finds he can't, however, and Haru's grip tightens, causing him to wince. "H-Haru, you can't drink my blood," he says, shaking his head quickly. "I don't want to be a vampire!"

Haru huffs. "You won't turn just from me drinking from you," he says, staring down at Makoto's arm instead of his face. His expression softens then, and the lines of his face seem to deepen and grow tired. He sighs once more, wearily. "Please, Makoto. I-I haven't . . ."

Makoto tilts his head, biting his lip gently. "You haven't had any blood since you turned?" he asks hopefully.

Haru frowns faintly. "Not human blood," he admits, looking away. "The one who turned me let me drink from him . . . but I ran away two weeks ago."

"Did he hurt you, Haru?" Makoto asks softly, unable to help it. Then he curses himself for such an obvious question. Of course the vampire hurt Haru. He'd turned him, didn't he? Grimacing, Makoto reaches up with his free hand to stroke the back of Haru's head gently. "Hey. You-you can drink from me if you want to. If you need to, I mean. Just once though. And don't-don't kill me, okay?" He laughs, high and nervous.

Haru's frown deepens. "I'm not going to kill you," he says flatly, moving closer on the couch. He pauses then, looking from Makoto's wrist to his face. His gaze travels down to Makoto's neck, where his pulse is pounding rapidly against the skin. Slowly, he licks his lips, and Makoto feels a shiver run through him.

"Um, H-Haru—"

Before he can finish his protest, Haru's arms are around him, and his teeth sink into Makoto's neck where it meets his shoulder. Makoto hisses as the sharp canines puncture skin and muscle, sharp pain spreading through his neck and shoulder. It doesn't last, however, as the venom begins to sink into his bloodstream. Involuntarily, Makoto finds himself relaxing, and he sighs shakily. His hands come up to touch Haru's sides.

Haru murmurs softly against his skin, nuzzling his face deeper against Makoto's neck. Makoto can feel him trembling, so he wraps his arms around him more fully, gripping him in a tight hug. One hand comes up to stroke Haru's hair gently, and Makoto begins to whisper soothingly, telling Haru that it's okay, even though they both know it isn't.

Makoto's starting to feel lightheaded when Haru finally pulls away. He blinks slowly, blood dripping from his lips, trailing down his chin. Makoto's arms feel weak, so he lets them fall away, hands scraping the rough material of the couch. Haru sits back on his heels, licking his lips slowly. Makoto wants to reach up to touch Haru's cheek, to tell him again that it's okay, but his limbs feel heavy, and he just wants to sleep. His eyes start closing, and the last thing he sees before he slumps over on the couch is Haru's eyes widening, lips parting in a soft cry of dismay. Then all goes black.

When Makoto opens his eyes again, he's once more in bed and the light from the morning is streaming through his window. He sits up with a low groan, feeling sore in his shoulder for some reason. When he reaches up to touch it, his fingers brush across medical tape and gauze, and he pauses, as the memories from last night come back to him. Quickly, he throws back his covers and moves to stand, grabbing his robe once more to pull on (he doesn't remember taking it off, but then he doesn't remember his wound being treated either). Once somewhat decent, Makoto makes his way into the kitchen, where he can smell fish being cooked.

"You're making mackerel," Makoto observes, standing in the doorway and looking in at Haru. He smiles faintly, though Haru doesn't turn to acknowledge him.

"Did you sleep, okay?" Haru asks softly.

"I did," Makoto says with a nod, stepping forward. "How about you?"

Haru stills for a moment, staring down at the pan of fish in front of him. "I don't sleep anymore," he says quietly, and Makoto grimaces in response.

"Oh. Right. Well, you should still rest at least, yes? So did you get any rest?"

Haru sighs. "Makoto, I'm fine," he says, turning finally to give Makoto a look.

Any protest Makoto might have given dies on his lips, as he sees dark red eyes looking back at him. No longer is there any blue, shimmering like ocean water beneath Haru's dark fringe. Now his eyes are the color of blood, and Makoto has to suppress a shiver. He tells himself it's fine, that it's still Haru, that nothing else has to change.

"Um, I have work," Makoto admits, glancing toward the clock on the wall. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

Haru rolls his eyes, turning back around to face the stove. "I just said I was fine," he says pointedly.

"Right." Makoto laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his head. The thought of having to leave Haru alone in his apartment unsettles him though, especially considering that he has no idea where he's been the past six months or what happened to him. He knows that he was turned, which means that he had something rather traumatic happen to him, and Makoto knows that things like that leave scars, but he doesn't have the time to sit and comfort him.

But then again, maybe he could make the time.

"Haru, do you want me to call in sick?" Makoto asks softly. "I can do that if you’d feel more comfortable with me here."

Haru doesn't immediately turn around, but when he does, those red eyes glimmer with hope. "You would do that?" he asks softly. "You would stay with me?"

"Of course I would!" Makoto says quickly, stepping forward and taking Haru's hand in his. Again, it's cold, and it surprises him so much he almost drops it. But then he tightens his grip and gives the hand a firm squeeze. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll do my best to make it happen."

Haru blinks down at their hands, before looking away at the mackerel, poking it absently with his spatula. "I want you to stay," he says finally.

Makoto nods, already stepping over to his wall phone. "Then I'll call in sick," he says. "They'll be understaffed, but I think it'll be okay for the day. It's not like we get many kids around anymore. Not since . . ." Makoto trails off, not sure if bringing up the vampire invasion right now was a good thing. Instead, he turns to the phone, picking it off the wall and dialing his work number.

His boss isn't happy to give him the day off, but Makoto lies smoothly, telling him that he awoke with a sore throat and stuffed up head and isn't sure he should be around children right now when he might be contagious. His boss agrees, and when Makoto hangs up, Haru is at the table setting a plate of mackerel down for him. Makoto almost asks him if he’s going to eat before he remembers. Quietly, he sits and pulls the plate closer to eat, murmuring a soft “thank you for the food.”

Haru sits in the chair across from him, watching him with those unnerving red eyes that look so unlike Haru’s brilliant blue ones. Makoto’s throat feels dry, and although the mackerel tastes good, it feels like sandpaper in his mouth. He stands to grab a glass of water, and Haru jumps to his feet as well.

Makoto starts. “It’s okay, Haru, I’m just getting some water,” he says, waiting until Haru has slowly moved to sit once more before crossing over to the cabinets to pull down a glass. Once he has the water, he stands by the counter to drink, not making eye contact with Haru and wondering what he’s going to do.

Keeping Haru locked up here doesn’t seem like a good idea, especially if he doesn’t have access to blood regularly. Makoto isn’t sure he can provide his own blood as often as Haru probably needs it, but he isn’t comfortable thinking of Haru leaving to . . . hunt.

Setting the glass down, he looks over at Haru, who is watching him closely. The red eyes are fixed on him, almost as though he’s afraid Makoto might disappear if he so much as blinks. Smiling faintly, Makoto steps over to him, touching his shoulder lightly.

“It’s okay, Haru. I’m not going anywhere.” It’s a promise he’s going to do his best to keep, but as the look of relief passes over Haru’s features, Makoto feels guilt sink heavily in his stomach.

He knows that if anyone finds out he’s harboring a vampire, even one in the form of his best friend, that there will be consequences.

Still, he tries his best to keep things as normal as possible. He leads Haru into the living room and sits him down with a blanket wrapped around him. Curling up beside him, he turns on the TV and flips through the channels until he finds one that’s playing an old children’s cartoon they both used to watch when they were little. Haru hugs a pillow to his chest, and a tiny smile curls his lips as he watches the characters on the screen.

Makoto’s heart feels a little lighter at the sight, and he allows himself to lean into Haru, resting his shoulder against him. Haru presses back after a moment, and Makoto can almost imagine that they’re teenagers again, back before the infection, back before the world turned more cruel and dangerous than ever before.

Makoto wants to protect Haru from that world. He wants to keep him here where he’ll be safe. But he knows that he won’t be. He realizes that the safest place for Haru is probably amongst other vampires. They would be able to keep him alive, get him blood. He’s not sure how vampire society works, but they’d take care of their own, wouldn’t they?

But the thought of handing Haru over to those monsters that have been murdering men, women, and children all over Japan makes Makoto feel sick. Instinctively, he wraps his arm around Haru’s shoulders and pulls him closer to his side.

Haru glances at him, red eyes startling once more. Makoto gives him a shaky smile.

“Is this okay?”

Haru studies him a moment, before nodding and sinking down further beneath Makoto’s arm, practically snuggling up to his side. Makoto rubs his bicep gently, trailing his fingertips along cold skin. Haru tucks his head beneath Makoto’s chin, eyes turning back to the TV, and Makoto feels a soft pang of sadness as he realizes he can’t feel Haru’s heartbeat, despite his chest being pressed against Makoto’s.

Some time passes and Makoto tries to relax, tries to get used to the idea of Haru being a vampire now. It doesn’t have to change anything, right? Things can be the way they were before, can’t they?

But there’s one thing that bothers Makoto, and he can’t put his finger on it until the cartoon characters go to visit their grandparents and one of the children exclaims over how old his grandfather looks. Makoto’s chest tightens, and he glances down at the dark head beneath his chin.

“Hey, Haru?”

“Mmm.”

“If you’re a-a vampire now . . . does that mean you’re not going to age anymore? You’re going to stay the same as you are now while I grow older?”

Haru doesn’t reply for a moment. He sits up then, turning those unsettling eyes onto Makoto. Makoto swallows hard, not understanding that intense look and unnerved by the fact that he can’t understand it.

“I could turn you so that won’t happen,” Haru says finally.

Makoto’s blood turns cold. “That’s . . .” He stops, sputters, tries to start again. “Haru—”

A knock on the door makes him pause, and Haru frowns, glancing toward it sharply.

“Expecting someone?” he asks, and his voice is like ice.

Excusing himself with a murmur, Makoto gets off the couch and hurries to the door. He opens it cautiously, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he sees that it’s only Kisumi. Then he remembers Haru’s aversion to his friend and stiffens once more.

“K-Kisumi! What are you doing here?” he asks, keeping the door close to his side so Kisumi can’t see behind him to the couch where Haru is still sitting, watching him. Makoto can feel the hairs on the back of his neck tingling.

“The boss said you were sick, so I brought you some soup,” Kisumi says brightly, holding up a round container.

“Oh, that’s really kind of you, but you shouldn’t have,” Makoto says, keeping his voice as light and causal as possible.

Kisumi tilts his head, studying Makoto from head to foot and then back up again. “That’s funny. You’re still in your pajamas, but you don’t _look_ or _sound_ sick. What’re you up to?” He grins, like waiting for Makoto to tell him a joke.

Makoto bites his lip. He doesn’t like lying to Kisumi. His friend helped him through a lot after Haru disappeared. He feels like he should owe the man an explanation of some kind, but when he opens his mouth to tell him, all he can think about is how he might be betraying Haru if he says anything. So he simply closes his mouth again and shrugs.

“I just don’t feel well. I’ll be in tomorrow though.”

Kisumi nods, lifting the container again. “Here, I’ll put this in your kitchen for you. You can rest on the couch, and I’ll feed it to you!”

Makoto stares. “Uh, that’s really not—”

Kisumi pushes past him, breezing into the apartment like Makoto was nothing but a rice paper door in his way.

“—necessary.” Makoto blinks, turning around quickly and slamming the door shut behind him.

“Kisumi, wait!”

“Why are all your shades drawn?” Kisumi asks, setting the container on the coffee table and stepping toward the window.

Makoto looks to the couch, but Haru isn’t there. Feeling panic rising swiftly in his chest and throat, Makoto springs forward to stop Kisumi. But he doesn’t have to. As Kisumi reaches for the curtains, Haru rushes forward from seemingly nowhere. He grabs Kisumi’s wrist, wrenching him away from the window to slam him against the wall beside it.

“Haru!” Makoto cries, hurrying over to rest his hands on Haru’s shoulders. He tugs, trying to pull him away, but Haru tenses and plants his feet, unmovable.

Kisumi’s eyes are wide as he looks back at Haru. His arm is pinned beside him on the wall by Haru’s hand, and Haru has the bicep of his other arm in a vice-like grip. Slowly, realization dawns on Kisumi, as he takes in the pale skin, the red eyes, the fangs glistening as Haru hisses at him.

“Don’t open those curtains,” Haru says, his voice soft but thrumming with danger.

“Haru! You’re back! And you-you’re a-a . . .” Kisumi glances at Makoto over Haru’s shoulder, disbelief written over his features.

Makoto looks back at him helplessly. “I didn’t know until last night,” he admits.

Haru shrugs off Makoto’s hands, pulling away from Kisumi and taking a step to the side. He glances between the two of them, frowning faintly.

“Why are you here?” he asks Kisumi.

“To bring Makoto soup,” Kisumi says, staying against the wall.

Haru’s frown deepens. “But why?”

“Because we’re friends and coworkers?” Kisumi says, seeming nervous. He fidgets, looking to Makoto for support.

“It’s true, Haru,” Makoto says, as soothingly as he can. “We work together at the elementary school.”

Kisumi pushes away from the wall, stepping over to the coffee table to pick up the food container. Haru watches his movements closely, but Kisumi doesn’t turn to look at him. Instead he focuses on Makoto, as he straightens.

“Hey Makoto, you should show me where you want this in the kitchen,” he says.

Makoto notices a look in his eyes, and knows Kisumi probably wants to tell him that he should call the authorities and have them deal with Haru. He sighs, gesturing for Haru to move back to the couch, not wanting him to overhear and grow upset.

“I’ll be right back, Haru,” he assures him, before beckoning to Kisumi to follow him into the kitchen.

As soon as they were out of sight, Kisumi sets the container down on the table and turns to Makoto urgently.

“We need to get you out of here,” he says. “How do we know he hasn’t led more of his kind here?”

Makoto frowns faintly. “He showed up last night. If more were coming they probably would’ve shown up by now.”

Kisumi tilts his head. “You have a point,” he admits. “But what about you? You can’t stay here with a-a _vampire_ , Makoto. I know Haru is your friend, he’s my friend too, but . . . you have to realize that . . . that the Haru sitting on your couch isn’t the same Haru you grew up with. He’s different now.”

Makoto bit his lip. He knows why Kisumi is saying all this. He remembers holding his friend as he held the old stuffed teddy bear that once belonged to his little brother Hayato. The boy had been attacked on his way home from school, and the child that returned to Kisumi’s home was crazed for blood and had attacked his family until Shigino-san himself called the police and hunters arrived. They dispatched Hayato immediately, and Makoto knows Kisumi has never quite been the same since.

“This . . . this isn’t the same situation,” he says as gently as he could. “Haru hasn’t attacked anyone.”

Kisumi gives Makoto a withering look. “He _just_ jumped me back there,” he says, waving vaguely over his shoulder.

Makoto twists his hands together, chewing on his lip, as he follows Kisumi’s gesture with his gaze, wondering if Haru has stayed on the couch like he told him to. He sighs, looking back at Kisumi.

“It’s not the same. I have things under control.”

“So you’re fine with being his blood bag?” Kisumi asks with a frown, nodding toward the curve of Makoto’s shoulder where it meets his neck.

A corner of gauze is peeking out from beneath Makoto’s robe. He shifts the collar higher, covering it completely. He has to admit that he isn’t completely comfortable with the thought of Haru drinking his blood, but if that’s what it takes to keep other safe, than he’s willing to be a “blood bag.”

“Yes,” he says softly.

“I’m worried about you,” Kisumi says genuinely. He steps forward, placing his hand on Makoto’s shoulder, gently stroking his thumb over the gauze. “Please be careful.”

Makoto nods, reaching up to take Kisumi’s hand. He gives it a firm squeeze before letting it go. “I will,” he says, grateful for Kisumi’s concern. However, he knows Haru, and he knows Haru would never hurt him. So there’s nothing to be worried about.

He continues to tell himself this as he walks Kisumi to the door. He can feel Haru’s eyes on them from the couch, but he doesn’t acknowledge him. He pauses at the door, one hand on the frame, as he looks out at Kisumi.

“Please don’t tell anyone about him,” he begs softly, studying Kisumi’s face. It’s hard to read, but Makoto knows he can trust him. At least, he sincerely hopes he can.

“I won’t,” Kisumi promises after a moment, pursing his lips. “But if you ever need to get away, don’t hesitate to come to my place, okay? I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

Makoto smiles wanly. “I appreciate it,” he says, before watching Kisumi walk down the steps to the sidewalk. He shuts the door quietly. When he turns around, Haru is directly in front of him, staring him down with an unflinching gaze. 

Makoto jerks back, hitting the door with a _thump_. “H-Haru!” He presses a hand over his rapidly beating heart, swallowing hard. “Y-you startled me.”

“Don’t leave me,” Haru says in a low voice, his eyes fixed on Makoto’s. The red is dark, glistening with an almost dangerous tint. He steps closer, planting one hand against Makoto’s shoulder to press him more firmly against the door. “You can’t leave me.”

“I-I’m not planning to,” Makoto says, his eyes wide. He stares down into Haru’s pale face, noticing the faint tremble of his lower lip. Slowly, he reaches up to touch Haru’s cheek with his fingers, lightly brushing his thumb along that pout. He can see the muscles of Haru’s face relaxing at the contact, and he closes his eyes, leaning into Makoto’s hand.

Makoto bites his lip once more. Like this, Haru almost looks normal, like he did before he disappeared. But his skin is still so cold, and Makoto resists the urge to grab a blanket to wrap it around his friend, knowing that it won’t help. Haru will always be cold. Nothing will change that, short of changing Haru back, and Makoto isn’t sure that can be done.

He decides he’ll do his best to find out, however. He’ll save Haru from this life.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto says softly then, lowering his hand as Haru opens his eyes.

“Don’t call me -chan,” he murmurs, sighing with a roll of his eyes that’s so completely _Haru_ , that Makoto completely disregards everything Kisumi warned him about.

“I’m going to make you better, okay? I promise,” Makoto says, taking Haru’s face in his hands. He smooths his thumbs over Haru’s cheekbones, before he leans down to kiss him gently. It’s something he’s never done before, but he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t allow himself to worry whether or not Haru will reciprocate. Somehow, deep inside himself, he knows he will.

And as he suspected, Haru leans into him, into the kiss. He kisses him back with more force than Makoto started with, and his fingers curl into Makoto’s robe, gripping it tightly. His lips are cold, but Makoto warms them with his tongue, bathing them gently with tentative licks. Haru murmurs, stepping closer, opening to Makoto easily. Makoto slips his tongue inside but retreats instinctively when he feels the scrape of Haru’s fangs.

He pulls away from the kiss, his heart pounding faster as he realizes what he’s done. But instead of regret or apprehension, all he feels is affection and the fierce desire to protect Haru at all costs.

“We’ll figure this out,” he promises. “Together.”

Haru smiles. It’s just a small tilt of his lips, but Makoto knows Haru’s features as though they’ve been etched onto his heart. And he feels a trill of hope shiver through him at the smile.

Haru nods. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> My commission for the lovely Kaleigh! I really hope you liked it, Kay-chan! Thank you so much for commissioning me. <3
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
